


manners

by lastforever



Category: Friends (TV), We Are the In Crowd
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Cheating, F/F, I think it's a happy ending, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Post-Break Up, rachel and phoebe break up
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-01-27 19:04:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12588548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastforever/pseuds/lastforever
Summary: why did she let her heart be played with and strung along by this monster?- based off the manners music video by we are the in crowd [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CN-RcplEW5c]





	1. suburban house

**Author's Note:**

> some notes bc it does occur in some sort of au universe:  
> \- rachel and monica get together before rachel and ross (because otherwise, it would be weird)  
> \- ross does not crush on rachel  
> \- the characters are kind of season one-ish but of course a while has passed

**Monica Geller** couldn't sleep that night. The early September air was blowing in through the windows. The brunette tossed and turned, unable to stay put and fall asleep to the sounds of the final summer crickets chirping their last few songs. There was good reason for it, though. Monica was trying to sleep in the house that Rachel and her had lived in up until the morning of September 4, earlier today.

Now, all Monica was left with was the house, devoid of Rachel's stuff; a vague note from her; and last but not least, a whole bunch of questions. There were so many things that Monica would've accepted. She would've understood if Rachel had to leave for personal issues. For issues that were selfless choices. But no. She left for selfish reasons, and that was final.

But why? Monica had no idea.

The thought of Rachel haunted the chef. It brought along memories of pain, sadness, and self-pity, along with a barrage of unanswered questions. What had gone wrong? What did she not notice about Rachel? Why did she let Rachel use her for so long? Why did she let her heart be played with and strung along by this  _monster_?

She should've seen the signs. The tell-tale signs. The fake smiles. The lonely nights. The lack of communication. But she didn't, and now it was too late.

Monica's thoughts were interrupted by a phone call. She picked up the phone, answering with a simple, "Monica Geller."

"Hey Mon," the voice of Joey Tribbiani came through the speaker. "I heard about the news."

"And you decided to call me at... 11:33 pm about it?" Monica asked, the slightest hint of amusement in her voice as she checked the clock on the nightstand.

"Yep," Joey agreed. "Anyways, you wanna talk about it? I'm so sorry."

"I don't want pity, Joe," Monica sighed. "All I want is to get the hell out of the house."

"Right, your suburban white home," the Italian on the other line recalled. "If I remember correctly, you really wanted the house, and after a lot of arguing, Rachel gave in."

"Yeah..." Monica trailed off, her thoughts elsewhere. Was it that obvious that Rachel was always uninterested? DId everyone realize? Monica definitely needed to ask more people about it.

"Monica, don't dwell on what I said. The breakup was  _not_ your fault," Joey assured her. "Rachel's the one at fault."

"O-Okay,"

"Really, Mon, I was just fucking with you. Let's go out somewhere,"

"It's almost 11:45 at night," the brunette reminded her friend. "Where the hell could we possibly go?"

"Chandler and I are at Ross's house, but-"

"And you didn't tell me?" Monica cut Joey off. "I'll go. I need any reason to not be at home sulking right now."

"Alright, I'll see you in a bit," Joey said before hanging up.

Monica shoved her phone in the pocket of her sweatshirt, stumbling out of her room and heading down the stairs to go to Ross's house. She poured a cup of cold, pre-made coffee into her travel cup and walked out the door. Within minutes, she was driving down the road to her brother's house.

As she drove on the near empty road, Monica's mind began to drift into her memories. Monica remembered what happened when Rachel and her would go somewhere together. They'd always shout out the lyrics to the songs in unison, their voices seemingly fitting like puzzle pieces. Monica would look at Rachel through the mirror, smiling at how beautiful she was. Did Rachel ever do that for her? Did she even bat a perfectly curled eyelash at Monica?

Monica shook the negative thoughts from her head, pulling onto the side of the road. After turning off the ignition, the brunette stepped out of the car, heading up Joey's driveway. Before she was even on the top of the steps, the door to Joey's house opened.

"Hi Mon!" Joey greeted.

"Hey Joe," Monica chuckled at his childishness. "How're you doing?"

"I should be asking you that," Joey said, pouting as he lead the brunette down into the basement.

"Don't worry about me," Monica replied, mustering a smile. "I'm fine."

The two reached the bottom of the stairs, and Monica was greeted by two other guys. Chandler and Ross.

"What's up, Mon?" Chandler asked.

"Nothing much, you know," Monica kept her voice from quavering with expert skill. It seemed to be a magic talent that just developed when Rachel left her. Normally, Monica was a shitty liar, but now, her words were smooth and believable.

"Drop the act, Mon," Ross said. Maybe Monica wasn't that great of a liar, even after the breakup. "We heard."

"And that's why I've grabbed seven cartons of ice cream and a bunch of Disney movies," Joey grinned like an idiot.

"That _I_ paid for," Chandler added, grabbing a spoon and ice cream carton from Joey. "I paid for every Disney classic."

 _Maybe tonight won't be so bad_ , Monica mused, grabbing a carton of ice cream and leaning back onto the couch, watching the opening scene of  _The Lion King_.

* * *

Monica was wrong. The night got  _bad_. Really bad. Although watching the movies with boys was pretty fun, the worst part happened afterwards. The brunette had just left Ross's house and was now humming along to the song playing as she drove back to her house. As she turned onto her street, the first sign of disaster came up.

As Monica pulled into the driveway, Monica took notice that there was another car in the path. More specifically, it was Rachel's car. _What the hell is she doing here, out of all places_? Monica thought, walking up the front porch steps and opening the door. She had seen the lights on in the living room, so Monica decided to start searching there. Right when she entered, she saw Rachel there.

However, she was with someone else. A tall figure stood next to Rachel. The face was hidden, so Monica couldn't really recognize whoever it was.

"Rachel?" Monica asked, furrowing her eyebrows. At that, both of them turned towards Monica. " _Phoebe_?!"

"Shit, Monica," Phoebe stumbled back, bringing Rachel back with her. Monica took notice to how their hands were intertwined. The pieces finally clicked inside her head, and Monica couldn't be angrier.

"What the hell are you two doing in _my_ house?" the brunette demanded, getting straight to the point as she glared daggers at them.

Rachel winced when Monica said "my." The younger girl took in a deep breath, before beginning to talk. "Mon-"

"Don't call me that."

"Listen, I'm, I'm just _so_ sorry about everythi-"

"I don't care about your apologies," Monica stated firmly. "Now answer my fucking question."

"Rachel just... forgot something," Phoebe defended the shorter girl.

Monica couldn't believe that Phoebe had been the one Rachel had been referring to in her note. Phoebe Buffay, of all people. She had actually been the first one that Monica told about the breakup. Her family would probably be too judgemental, Rachel's friends and family were out of the question, and she was one of Monica's best friends. Monica had called her that morning, and her reaction seemed normal. Pitiful, surprised, saying all the things a good friend would say.

Monica surely didn't expect this; she didn't think that Phoebe would be the one that had been causing her all this irrational pain and hurt all along. Now, there was no hurt left in Monica's heart, but just pure rage that Monica was going to unleash on the two people that she had thought she could trust the most.

"Okay, well you could've just picked it up while I was in the fucking house," Monica spat. "Or are you two too chicken to fucking face me?"

"We didn't know you'd be out!" Rachel complained, waving her arms.

"It's three am, I'm either gonna be out or fucking sleeping like a normal ass person! Both cases are not good for picking up things that you've forgotten over here! You know, you have some nerve to show up here, Rachel. Couldn't you have given it a few days? Or maybe you could've just left your stupid thing over here? It's probably not that important anyway!" Monica ranted. "I don't want to know what possessed you two to have the audacity to show up here and  _let yourselves in_ to grab something that  _Rachel_ left. You should've done your packing better, Green."

"Monica, I'm so sorry," Phoebe sighed. "Rach is too. We just-"

"No, I'm done," Monica grumbled, running a hand through her hair. "You guys can go grab whatever the hell Rachel didn't pack and figure your shit out. You can leave whenever you find it. I'm going to bed."  _And maybe pop a fucking pill in the process_.

"We've got it already," Rachel said, showing Monica the picture frame she took. It was a framed picture of Rachel with Phoebe that was, for some reason, in their living room. _When the hell did that get there_? "We were just gonna head out, then you suddenly got back."

"That's great," Monica commented sarcastically. "Now, I hope you two have a good night." _Not really_. "And I'll see you sometime soon."  _Hopefully not._

The two made their way to the door, and just before they were about to leave, Rachel turned back, standing on the porch. Monica wasn't sure what for, but she stopped, staring into the piercing blue eyes that once made her head over heels in love. Now, they just made her angry.

"Mon..." Rachel paused. "..ica. I just- I just don't know what to say."

"Then don't,"t the brunette said flatly. Phoebe had gone ahead, starting up the car.

"I think it's best if I go,"

"Yeah," Monica grumbled, shoving her hands in her pockets and kicking the ground.

She stared at the ground, thinking. The brunette felt like the time she tried to ask Rachel out. She was nervous, skittish, and awkward, all things she was feeling now. However, now, Monica didn't care as much about Rachel's response.

"I..." Rachel tried to reach out to touch Monica's arm, but she yanked it away. "Sorry. I mean, I'm sorry about all of th-"

"I know," Monica considered what she said. "I mean, at least I think I know."

"I am. I'm so so-"

"Okay, no need to repeat it," Monica sighed. "Go."

As soon as she left, Monica shut the door, putting her back towards it and sinking to the ground. She put her head in her hands, groaning.

" _Fuck_!" she shouted, standing up angrily. " _God_ , why am I so dumb?"

The chef paced around, tugging at her hair and cursing. After a while, Monica headed upstairs, climbing into her bed for the second time in the night. Now, she had nothing to look forward to. The confrontation was over; Monica's questions were answered. Everything seemed to be Phoebe Buffay's fault. He's the damn reason Rachel got together with Monica, why Rachel always seemed so distant, and why Rachel and Monica broke up.

 _That's a chunk of my life I won't get back_ , Monica thought hopelessly. There was nothing left to do but try and continue on. But that was never easy, especially when something shitty had just happened to you. And _God_ knew Monica went through some rough stuff.

For fuck's sake, her girlfriend left her for her best friend. No. Her  _ex_ -best friend. The Phoebe Buffay Monica knew wouldn't have done shit like that. Phoebe wouldn't have let Rachel cheat on Monica. She had too much pride to be the other woman for so long.

But maybe Monica thought wrong. People were confusing. They were a box full of never-ending secrets. Sometimes, you may think you know everything about someone, but, in reality, you'll never know everything. Somebody probably knows something about a person that you don't. You may know something else about that person, but it doesn't change anything. And it sure as hell didn't change the attraction between Rachel Green and Phoebe Buffay.

Maybe Rachel and Phoebe's clandestine affair may have remained a secret from Monica forever if Monica hadn't caught them earlier. Phoebe could just stop talking to Monica, and normally, exes don't talk. They had kept this cheating relationship under the wraps for so long, and it worked. There was no reason to think that Monica would find out even after they were broken up.

Toxic thoughts wouldn't leave Monica's mind. Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around? Wasn't the thought of Monica sleeping alone supposed to haunt Rachel and keep her awake? Monica supposed it was because she cared, while Rachel didn't. After all, she wasn't the cheater; Rachel was.

And thinking too much is exactly why Monica ended up staying awake all night, laying alone on the king-sized bed in her white suburban house.


	2. 103 missed calls

**Rachel** didn't mean for all of this to happen. She _loved_ Monica. The brunette was perfect. Hilarious, hardworking, passionate. She wasn't going for Phoebe when she got together with Monica, but it seemed like that was the inevitable end. But after getting the best of both worlds for a while, Phoebe gave her the ultimatum, demanding she choose between Monica or her.

And in the end, Rachel had chosen her.

Now, after seeing Monica like that, Rachel wasn't too sure that she had made the right choice. It had only been one day and she was having doubts; what was going to happen a few months down the road? This was a disaster. Rachel should've just avoided the alluring Phoebe Buffay when she had the chance. When she was nothing more than Monica's quirky, hippie friend. Now, she meant more to Rachel, but maybe she didn't mean enough.

Phoebe, of course, had no idea about any of this. She was sound asleep, snoring the night away. Ugh. Rachel often thought Phoebe a little insensitive, or just unaware. That was probably part of the reason that Rachel was attracted to Monica in the first place. She _cared_. She would stay up all night, call her in the middle of the day to check in, make home-cooked meals, and more, all for Rachel. She was, in fact, perfect.

Rachel had thrown all of that away. For what? For nothing. Monica might've been everything Rachel wanted, but in the end, why did Rachel choose Phoebe?

Regret was a fucking bitch. It creeps up on you when you least expect it. You're expecting satisfaction or content, but instead, you get regret. Regret haunts every part of your mind and soul, constantly tormenting it. And that's exactly what was happening to Rachel. The very thought of Monica Geller's lost, forlorn face just couldn't stop gnawing at her consciousness.

Monica had taught Rachel a lot of different things. There were a lot of firsts that Monica had made Rachel go through. Although Rachel had (drunkenly, in her defense) kissed a girl before, she had never formally dated one. That was number one. Also, Rachel had never been a cheater before dating Monica. Additionally, Rachel had never left a note in explanation for a breakup. Moreover, Rachel had never just up-and-left a significant other like she did with Monica. Monica and Rachel's relationship had turned her into a monster.

Scratch that, guilt was even more of a bitch than regret. It doesn't just creep on you, but it eats through your flesh and bone until you're nothing more than another ghost floating around. Guilt changes who you are. You try to do better deeds to tell your subconscious that you're not a shitty person, but deep down, you know that all of this isn't true.

Rachel felt terrible for leaving Monica with only a letter, but Phoebe wouldn't let her do much more. It was a letter or nothing. However, the brunette refused to let Rachel explain before, so maybe she was doing alright.

Who was Rachel kidding? Monica was obviously angry and pissed. That was not "doing alright." But instead of comforting Monica like she used to, all Rachel could do was lay in her bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Suddenly, Rachel's phone started to buzz. Rachel took the call without looking at the caller ID. She waited for someone to talk, but all she heard was heavy breathing on the other line.

"Hello?" she whispered, careful not to wake up Phoebe.

"Rachel," a drunken voice slurred. Monica. "You're a real _bitch_ , you know."

"Monica, are you okay? Why are you still up?"

"Why's it any of your business, _bitch_?" Monica retorted. Rachel could practically feel the anger radiating off the slurring voice. "You and I aren't together anymore. I'm not your _problem_ anymore!"  _You were never a problem_.

"Listen, I'm just worried-" the younger girl was interrupted by Monica's spiteful replies.

"Worried my ass! You weren't 'worried' when you ran off with _Phoebe_ into your perfect little sunset! Now you claim to be 'worried?' Make a decision, Rachel,"

"Monica, please. Just go drink some water and lie dow-"

"Shut up, Rachel! No one cares. You can just go fucking fuck yourself!"

"Monica, just calm down," Rachel pleaded.

"Don't tell me what to do, you cheating asshole!" Monica roared. Rachel glanced over at Phoebe, who just grunted a bit and moved around in the bed.

"Why'd you call me, Monica?" Rachel mumbled in the most level voice she could manage.

"I..." Monica's voice softened. "Tell me why you left me."

"Monica-"

"Answer the damn question!"

"I... I don't know," Rachel came to a realization. She had no idea why she left Monica.

Monica laughed an emotionless, hollow laugh. "That sure is helpful, Rachel. I'm glad you left everything we had for no apparent reason. I'll make sure to tell everyone that. I can see it now."

Monica barked out another laugh, her voice sounding strained. "Imagine me and my mom talking or something. My mom'd be like: 'Hey Monica, how're you doing? Did you figure out why Rachel left you?' And all I could say would be 'I called her up the other day, she says she 'don't know.' It's so funny, really. Even more of a reason for her to think I'm a failure. Oh, she's a lesbian? Well shucks, she can't even do that!"

The sarcasm dripping from Monica's voice told Rachel how amused she really was. Monica wasn't amused at all. Rachel shuddered. She had always been kind of scared of Monica when she got into one of her angry fits, but then she remembered that she was the one who broke Monica's heart. Why was she scared? She had all the leverage, after all. It was a shitty thing to think, but it was the reality.

"You know what?" Rachel challenged, becoming impatient. "Fine. I left you for reasons unknown. I get it. Call me when you're not drunk off your ass and have something actually meaningful to say."

And with a big, sweeping motion, Rachel hung up. It felt good to be in power, but then the guilt crept in once more. She didn't mean to be so harsh on Monica. Hell, she had been _cheating_ on the chef. She had all the right to be mad at the blonde.

But that didn't stop Rachel from ignoring her continuously vibrating phone.

 

* * *

Rachel woke up the next day to Phoebe shaking her. She opened her eyes, staring up. Instead of a happy, joyful face, the expression Phoebe wore radiated anger.

"What's wrong, Pheebs?" Rachel asked groggily, yawning a bit in the process.

"I'll tell you what's wrong! Your phone's got a bunch of voicemails from  _Monica Geller_. I thought you said you cut things off with her! What the hell are you doing talking to her?" Phoebe shouted, bringing Rachel out of her sleepy state.

"I swear I didn't call her! I just answered her first call, she was drunk off her ass! I ignored the rest, I promise!"

She softened. "Alright. You gonna listen to the voicemails?"

"Nah," Rachel lied. "It's probably slurry, drunken shit anyway. No need."

"I'll meet you downstairs then," Phoebe smiled, placing a quick kiss on Rachel's lips as if he wasn't just about to tear her head off earlier.

"Yeah," the woman agreed halfheartedly. "I'll meet you down there."

Rachel slipped out of bed, mumbling words to herself as she trudged down the stairs. She saw Phoebe down there, sitting at a two-person table with a plate of food in front of her. The young woman raised her eyebrows.

"I didn't know you could make breakfast," she commented.

"Well, that's cause you never stayed the night," Phoebe replied, a hint of annoyance in her voice. _Oh boy, here we go again_ , Rachel thought. She did her best to divert the conversation.

"It smells nice, that's a good sign,"

"Well, it _is_ edible," she motioned. "I'm eating it, and look at me."

The two ate in silence, an awkward tension amongst the two.

After having breakfast, Phoebe left the house to go meet up with someone. Rachel didn't ask, and honestly, she didn't mind. She wanted to listen to the voicemails Monica left her, and with Phoebe's constant pestering, she'd never be able to do it.

 _It's now or never_ , Rachel supposed.

She turned on her phone, tapping until she reached voicemails. _Am I ready for this?_ Rachel asked herself. _Yes, I am_ , Rachel assured herself. However, in her subconscious, there was a different answer. With a deep breath, Rachel played the first voicemail.

Silence. Then a breath being taken in.

" _Hey_ _Rachel!_ " the voice of Monica Geller shouted. "I hope you're having the _time of your goddamn life_ with _Phoebe_! I'm so happy for you!" She didn't sound that drunk, which was good. "Let's toast to you and Phoebe!"

That's when the first voicemail disconnected. Rachel took in a shaky breath, before clearing her mind. This was her _ex_. _Rachel_ left her, not the other way around. She needed to remember that. Rachel should be doing better, not worse. The small girl sighed, starting the second voicemail.

"Hey _Rachel_!" Monica jeered. "This is what a _winner_ is like. Not some lame cowardly pussy like you! I'm a fucking winner, you hear?" Someone breathed heavily into the speaker, and Rachel could practically see Monica's smirk. "Hey babe," the brunette murmured. Her voice was low and seductive, but Rachel could hear it loud and clear through the speaker. "You wanna go home?" Silence. "Alright. Let's head out."

Then, the line clicked off.

Rachel sighed, burying her head into her hands. Hearing Monica's voice was a little too much. However, Rachel craved the sound of her voice. She wanted to hear it again and again, letting it anchor her into reality. And as it often is, reality was shitty. Rachel was completely alone. She had a boyfriend that didn't really care for her, an ex that hated her guts, and friends that thought she was an asshole after she broke Monica's heart.

There were other voicemails from Monica, and Rachel wondered what Monica recorded on those. Without thinking, Rachel pressed play on the next voicemail.

" _Hey Rachel_ _!_ " Monica's voice grumbled through the speaker. "How're _you_ doing? An update: that girl I was just with, she and I _fucked_. Thanks, Rachel. I missed getting out there. I'm glad you and I broke up! You hear that, _bitch_? I'm _so_ winning this fucking breakup!"

The line disconnected, and suddenly, the door opened. In a hurry, Rachel turned off her phone. She couldn't risk it if Phoebe was the person behind the door. Rachel put on her best fake smile, turning around.

"Hey Pheebs!" she chirped. _God, when did I ever get this peppy?_ she thought. "You're back early."

"Can't I miss my favorite gal?" she asked, placing a kiss on Rachel's cheek. "What're you up to?"

"Ah, nothing," Rachel waved her off. "Just returning a few calls. It's no big deal that you have to save me from."

"Okay, but if that bitch Monica tries to call you again, just tell me," Phoebe said.

Rachel nodded, but her head was swirling with questions. Wasn't Phoebe friends with Monica? When did it go from 'my friend Monica' to 'that bitch Monica?' Rachel didn't really want to know, and she hoped that she didn't have anything to do with it. Rachel hated when people were torn apart, and she seemed to be the facilitator in this case.

"Well," Phoebe clapped her hands together. "You wanna go out for lunch? Like our first date as an official couple."

"To be honest, I think at one point, you kinda liked being the other woman," Rachel teased, pushing the thoughts about Monica out of her mind.

She considered it. "I guess it was a turn on, but I prefer being exclusive by a long shot."

The two stood in the middle of the kitchen, looking at one another awkwardly. Rachel wasn't really sure what to say, and Phoebe, well she was just waiting for an answer.

"So..." the tall woman prompted once more. "You wanna go out for lunch or not?"

"Sorry, Pheebs," Rachel turned her down. "I can't. I've got that thing with my parents, I should get ready."

"Oh, right, yeah," the realization surprised Phoebe. "I forgot. Have fun, babe."

"Yeah, I will," the short woman mustered a grin as Phoebe placed a quick kiss on her lips. "But go out anyway. Call up a few of your friends and have fun. I'll see you later."

"Later, Rachel," Phoebe called, dashing away and running up the stairs.

Once Phoebe left the house, Rachel somehow felt more like herself. She picked up the phone, dialling a number she had memorized by heart a long time ago.

Voicemail. Of course.

After the long beep, Rachel began talking.

"Hey..."

 


	3. 9 times vomited in

**Monica**  didn't know why her phone was ringing. The boys had all checked in on her last night, her parents had no reason to call (Monica had yet to tell them about the split), and the other two people who could have called were now in a relationship. With one another. Monica grimaced at the thought, digging around and searching for her phone. She hadn't left her room all morning, just lying there and thinking in an attempt to relieve the headache from the chaos of last night. Right now, her thoughts were great company. Company enough.

By the time the brunette found her phone, the call had disconnected. She turned it on, reading the notification.

_Missed Call  
212-763-8492_

Monica froze, a confused expression making its way onto her face. That was Rachel's number.  _What the hell did she want now? Hadn't she done enough?_

 _No_ , Monica thought to herself.  _She_ ** _cheated_**   _on you with one of your best friends. You aren't calling her back._

But curiosity beat common sense and the chef turned on her phone, calling her ex-girlfriend back.

"Mon?" the younger's voice came in through the crackling speaker. "I didn't think you'd-"

"Sure," Monica muttered.  _You knew I would_. "So before you give me a bullshit defense for calling, you can just blame it on a pocket dial now and I'll pretend like this didn't happen."

The blonde sucked in air through her teeth, and although the other heard it, she just continued on talking.

"Honestly, I don't want to hear about how shitty your relationship with Phoebe is now and how you regret it all. I know her. She's been a friend for years. When you spend too much time with her, you realize that she has these little idiosyncrasies that just drive you up the wall. Or she's becoming detached and indifferent. I don't know, and frankly, I don't care."

 _Yes you do_.

"I wasn't going to say any of that," Rachel retorted boldly. That was unlike the Rachel Monica knew. Rachel had been somewhat of a "pushover" type, as Phoebe had mentioned. However, now, she was very brave in saying such, when Monica knew the truth.

"So what were you going to say?" the brunette raised an eyebrow even though Rachel couldn't see her.

"That I wanted to meet up for lunch," Rachel said bluntly.

"That's ex-talk for 'let's get back together,' and I sure as hell ain't doing that. Not a year from now, not  _two days from the day we broke up._ Two days from the day I found out you were _leaving me for one of my closest friends_ ,"

 _Why did she keep appearing, and why was Monica still talking to her_?

"C'mon!" the blonde complained. Monica could imagine the pout she had on. She  _knew_  that pout. It was the pout she used when she wanted something, whether it be a present from her father at age 15 or Monica's forgiveness when they dated. This time it wasn't going to work.

 _Lies_.

"I told Phoebe that I had a lunch scheduled with my mom, and she believed it. I really need to talk."

"About _your_ relationship problems?" Monica scoffed. "I don't want to hear it." She paused, trying to calm down. Her minimal effort was in vain. "I told you this when you  _snuck_ into  _my_ house, and I'll tell you this again. You got a lot of nerve doing all this shit. This back-and-forth shit. One second you're telling me that it's over, the next you're calling me up for lunch. Figure it out."

The elder hung up, not giving Rachel the chance to respond. Monica sighed, burying her head into her hands and falling back onto the mattress.

 _What the hell was going on_?

* * *

Later that night, Monica was at the local bar,  _Boomerang_ , alone. She loved this bar, it was just in the city but still really close to the house. It was the perfect replacement for when Terry turned the bar into Central Perk. After showing it to Rachel, it became one of their favorite places to go as a couple. Today, however, it was more of a 'drink down your problems' bar visit.

 _Goddamnit, is there anywhere I_ can _go without thinking about her_? Monica thought to herself, taking a long sip from her drink. Scotch on the rocks. Always

"Getting ready for a long night?" a new voice asked.

The brunette looked up wearily to see a bartender looking down at her, an amused sparkle in her eyes. Her blonde hair was down, the waves falling into place. Golden ringlets framed her cheekbones. There was no doubt; this woman was beautiful.

"Depends..." Monica trailed off, squinting to see the faded name etched onto her name tag, "Molly. Why do you think I'm going for a long night?"

"Well, if you really wanna know," the bartender began, wiping off a glass. "From the looks of it, you're going through some sort of breakup thing, and you're trying to pretend like you're fine. Your drinking issues are probably worsened, most likely. How many drinks have you had?"

The brunette buried her head in her hands. "Not nearly enough," she muttered, "but you're pretty spot-on with your predictions, Therapist Molly."

"Don't worry, the charge'll be included in your tip," Molly smiled, winking as she set the glass aside. Molly looked directly into Monica's blue piercing eyes with her harlequin ones. "You need another drink?"

"Yes please," Monica mumbled, sliding a few bills over. "Something that'll get me drunk fast."

"Gotcha, beautiful," the blonde smirked, walking away to charm some other male customers that seemed to be drooling over her already.

The brunette watched as the bartender moved. She was so graceful, but it also seemed routine to her, like it was the same thing every time. Interrupt the customer. Make small talk. Get extra tips. It made the chef feel insignificant and boring, but it was the same way with Rachel anyway.

 _Better to be with a charming bartender than a cheating ex-girlfriend tonight_.

Monica really missed the loving Rachel. The Rachel that'd stay up nights on end to tend to Monica because she was sick. The Rachel that'd thrown a full-blown party at a large-ass venue just to celebrate one birthday or one small thing.

Now, the Rachel that was with Phoebe was only a shadow of who she was. She used to be so much more than a spineless, no good girl. She used to be of skin and bone; now she was reduced to nothing but madness.

"You're thinking about her," the bartender's voice was right by Monica again.

The brunette looked up and raised her eyebrows. Molly slid a bright neon drink to her. "Back so soon?" Monica teased.

"They're not that interesting," Molly decided. "I just couldn't get enough of you, mystery girl," she drawled, reaching out and tracing the other girl's jawline with her pointer finger.

"Well, let's end the mystery. The name's Monica,"

"Well, _Monica_ ," the blonde tested the name out on her lips, licking them quickly after she said so. "You wanna know a secret?"

"I don't know," she mused. "From my experience, bartenders tend to have the same secrets."

"Oh really?" Now it was Molly's turn to raise her eyebrows. "Well, you must've caught me."

"Maybe I have..." the brunette sighed, spinning the straw in her drink. "Say, what the hell makes you think I like this fruity shit that you've given me here?"

"You need change," Molly analyzed. "I'll tell you a different secret. She ain't coming back. She's gone. It's over."

"You give some solid ass advice," the chef noted.

"Why do you think I'm a bartender? It was either that or becoming a therapist, and becoming a therapist requires college, so..."

Monica chuckled at the quip. "Don't expect an extra tip, though. I would've figured that out eventually."

Conversation died down, and Monica looked at her drink, stirring it slowly as cogs turned in her head. Molly watched with oddly intense interest.  _What the hell had happened to this girl_? Some rowdy men were shouting for drinks, but instead of going over to them like a regular day, the blonde called for a coworker to take their orders.

Monica looked up at Molly. "You know, you don't have to stand there and 'protect me' or whatever you think you're doing. I'm alright."

"I know," Molly glanced down at the counter before meeting the brunette's eyes again, "but the bar's kinda empty tonight. I don't know if I really need to leave here."

"Fine," Monica gave in. "Just keep the drinks coming and the people away."

Several drinks later, the brunette was really feeling the effects of the alcohol.  _I should go home_ , she thought.

"Finally ending the night?" the bartender smirked at the chef.

"Not... feeling so well,"

"Alright, go head to the bathroom," Molly ordered, wiping her hands with a rag.

After Monica sprinted to the bathroom, she ran into a stall, paying no attention to anyone else. She collapsed onto the ground and then puked, right into the toilet, feeling absolutely gross and shameful. She didn't even want to think about how many people have done that in that exact toilet before.  _God, I'm a mess_ , the chef thought to herself. The brunette tried to freshen up, but everything seemed in shambles. Monica had started to sober up, and she realized what a mess she had been, and still was. The mirror was not working with the lights, and no amount of water-splashing seemed to wake her up.

The door opening shook Monica out of her thoughts. It was Molly.

"It's you," Monica observed flatly. "Sorry, that came out a lot bitchier than I intended it t-"

"Shh..." the bartender chuckled. "It's fine."

"What are you... what are you doing in here?"

"Well, after you ran to the bathroom, I figured nothing good was going to happen. My shift was almost over, anyway. I'm here to clean your ass up and bring you home,"

"That really isn't necessa-"

"House calls aren't part of my job description, but anything for a pretty girl with oceans for eyes," Molly said, the corners of her lips twitching upwards.

That smooth line pushed Monica over the edge. The brunette, who considered herself to be mature and responsible, pulled the bartender onto her with some sort of carnal thirst. The two locked lips, their bodies right next to one another. Their tongues battled for dominance and the kiss continued until they lost their breath. Molly looked at the chef.

"What are we... are we doing...?" she considered something for a minute.

"Listen, I'm  _sober_. Puking out your guts really does that to you,"

That was good enough for Molly. She continued to kiss, and started to unbutton Monica's top. With every button coming undone, Monica felt herself forgetting for a change. And forgetting felt nice.


End file.
